Moon Underfoot by Bobby Cole Read Free Book Online Page A

trait that had helped him successfully evade conviction for his multitude of crimes. He knew that if something immediately happened to Jake, he would be the principal suspect. He also knew that by lying low, with each passing week, everyone would return to their normal behavioral patterns. All he had to do was wait for the right time and place. He could be very, very patient. In fact, he enjoyed the thought of Jake’s anxiety at not knowing if or when he and his family were going to be terrorized again. And now that Morgan had seen him watching their house, they would all be on an emotional roller coaster that he alone controlled. Moon Pie smiled.
    Moon Pie had seen Jake at his office and at home, and he had even let Jake walk within ten yards of him in the woods one Saturday morning while Jake was plowing a food plot. Jake had gotten off of his small tractor to take a leak, and Moon Pie hadplanned to kill him and run over him with the tractor to make it look like a farming accident; however, two other guys had driven up, and Jake had immediately left with them. The anticipation of what was to come for Jake was becoming more and more enjoyable to Moon Pie.
    Over time, Moon Pie decided to make Jake’s death look like a hunting accident, since those were rarely investigated as rigorously as other deaths. He’d never be linked to it. And with Jake gone, there wouldn’t be anyone to protect his hot wife and little girl. Another sinister smile crossed Moon Pie’s lips.

CHAPTER 14

    W ALTER SEVERSON SPENT the morning googling the name Sebastian had given him. He didn’t learn anything about Jake Crosby’s stock-picking abilities, but he spent a solid hour reading about Jake, his daughter, and a young couple being victimized in a series of violent crimes about two years earlier. Three cups of coffee later, he was convinced that he wanted to talk to Jake, so he called the brokerage office to set up a meeting for early afternoon because Walter had to work the late shift at Kroger that day.
    Walter was sitting on the deck of Proffitt’s Porch, a remote “lakeside restaurant” between West Point and Columbus. He shook Tabasco on his gumbo before he even tasted it. He’d become addicted to the hot sauce since moving to Mississippi. He loved that it was on nearly every Southern table. He wished he had discovered it earlier in life. Each time a red drop splashed onto his food, he cussed the bland Northern cooking he had grown up eating.
    He checked his watch, knowing Jake would be arriving soon. He scanned the parking lot for BMWs and Mercedeses—something appropriate for a stockbroker. Nothing fit the bill. Halfway through his cup of gumbo, he noticed a dirty Chevroletfour-wheel-drive pickup roll into the gravel parking lot. He watched a fortysomething-year-old guy wearing khaki pants and a dark-green button-down shirt get out and climb the eatery’s steps. He carried a camo fleece jacket in his left hand.
    “Mr. Severson?”
    Walter accepted that this was the man he was scheduled to meet. He had expected more, however, someone who looked a bit more like he actually worked in a financial institution. This guy’s demeanor, coupled with his dress and vehicle choice, was fitting for a sporting-goods-store manager, not a money manager.
    “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you, young man,” Walter said as he stood and extended his hand.
    “Jake Crosby. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
    “I really appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
    “Not a problem. I had to move a few things around, but I got it done,” Jake lied. He didn’t want anyone to know he was starved for clients and that if he didn’t add a few soon, he’d be fired.
    “Do you mind if we eat outside?” Walter didn’t want anyone overhearing their conversation.
    “No, sir. I actually prefer that. I came prepared…just in case,” Jake said, holding up his jacket.
    Walter chuckled to himself as his potential financial manager slipped on camouflage at a